Rhene Varlois
Rhene is a former noblewoman of Lordaeron and daughter to a war hero of the First and Second Wars, Alvan Varlois. She was killed in the Third War, and is now yet another lost soul amongst the Forsaken. Early Life Rhene was born the same year the Dark Portal opened, and one year before her soon to be famous father rode to war. Born as an upper-class noblewoman to Lucia Varlois and the war hero of the First & Second Wars Alvan Varlois. Her education was comprehensive yet as she grew older, she found herself idolizing her distant and frequently absent father more and more, and came to wish to emulate him in any way she could. Despite persistent scolding, she wielded a sword from the moment she could hold a stick and showed a stubborn streak early on by being difficult to control. She was not a well-liked child, her stubborn streak turning into arrogance as she approached her adolescence, yet as the heir apparent and daughter of a war hero, few dared defy the spoiled brat. She would be thirteen years old when she finally met her father, whom had finally come back from the wars. Alvan proved to be the only man that had a hope of controlling the child, putting in significant time into reigning her in… Yet after twelve years at war being a father simply did not come naturally, and he would leave to respond to one threat or another, to which Rhene would slip into old habits. Getting her to learn statecraft and minor magic under her mother was like pulling teeth, with the adolescent more concerned with learning to duel or going off to hunt. When she reached adulthood, her father was able to force some vague sense of honour and humility into her, even going sofar as to bequeath his ancestral sword Ashrune to her, yet it wasn’t nearly enough and she still had a long and twisting road to travel. She and her father were more alike than anyone cared to admit. One was simply a younger version of the other, holding dangerous combination of ambition and pride coupled with a hunger for glory and fame, yet lacking the tempering of age and experience. The Third War When the plague rolled in Alvan was quick to respond, going with most of his best men southwards to aid the King in quashing what appeared to be a minor rebellion. He left Rhene in charge of their small estate to oversee the Autumn harvest of the orchards, believing experiencing real responsibility would steady her temper. His gambit paid off. Somewhat. Rhene began to realize just how much work authority brought with it, and just how uncomfortable real responsibility made her. Three weeks later when the choking columns from Plague Cauldrons began to appear across Lordaeron, she took a third of the remaining house guard to investigate. In the end, it took a painful and ignoble death at the hands of the Scourge to teach her true humility. She died with the knowledge that the fifty-five souls she was responsible for had no idea what was coming for them. Rebirth When the Lich King’s hold on the Forsaken broke, it was like abruptly lurching from the dubious comfort of a barely-remembered nightmare into a reality all the more terrifying. She found herself alone in a dark, empty forest devoid of all noise. No birds sang, no insects chittered. At first she tested herself – her muscles, whilst stiff, still functioned with her magical circuits and reservoir remained fully intact – perhaps the only part of her to escape death relatively unscathed. That first night was where her ill-spent youth and disregard for her studies finally caught up with her. Unable to remember the correct volumes of mana or wording for the incantations, she spent hours unable to form so much as a single spark from even that most basic of cantrips. That night, she felt the true weight of consequence as keenly as she felt the relentless chill of the Autumn wind. She would wander for days through the dead forest, searching for the missing Ashrune or any sign of civilization. Whilst wandering through the still woodlands, she found her tattered and numb body no longer became tired and that she could no longer pass into sleep, no matter how badly she may have longed for even a temporary lapse from the waking nightmare. Eventually, she got lucky and stumbled across the road to Brill and found many others suffering the same terrible fate. These horrors, these unnatural creatures which all would come to denounce as abominations were still the citizens of Lordaeron. Sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, husbands, wives in the past… They were a broken people whom now had only eachother to rely on. In a world that hated them simply for existing. Now a sleepless, shattered mess like so many of the Forsaken in those early days, Rhene found herself with an awful lot of time on her hands, and turned to work to keep her mind busy. Power and status from the old world now meant less than nothing and she’d have to work as a simple labourer amongst those whom had once been nobles like herself or barristers, farmers, scribes, smiths and wizards. Only survival and scratching out a home for the Forsaken mattered now. A Second Chance? Having spent most of her meager savings having her ravaged body carefully regenerated by Shadowmenders, Rhene busied herself with a project on the side – the list. With perfect, painful hindsight, she’d been an embarrassing screwup that her family, had any survived, would undoubtedly be ashamed of. There were fifty-five people she’d been responsible for, and whilst she’d failed spectacularly at that task, she had eternity to make it right. Months were spent digging through census logs, marriage records and a trip or two to the old, deserted Varlois estate and eventually she’d come up with a list of the fifty-five. She remembered those faces well enough… Now it was time to put to put to rest any still under the Scourge she stumbled across, or mark off any others she found alive or freed. Maybe once every name had been crossed off could her mind rest easy. Around this time she encountered one of the first to be marked off the list. Her name was Katia Allegarn, a surgeon’s apprentice and daughter of a labourer from the Varlois estate. Katia was a year younger and far scrawnier and Rhene, whom remembered making life difficult for the apprentice on numerous occasions – an unwise decision for one whom would have been her future surgeon. Humbled from her death and harsh dose of reality, the effort to quash the tattered remains of her pride was none the less a titanic effort. Rhene awkwardly and reluctantly apologised to Katia, and was stunned to find it accepted by the kind-hearted apprentice. Soon the two went their separate ways with a promise to write. The experience would bring to life the faintest ember within Rhene, that maybe – just maybe – she could change, that she could somehow redeem herself. Eventually, It was clear the Alliance had abandoned the sons and daughters of Lordaeron to their terrible fate and now sought their extermination when the Horde extended the hand of cooperation. Rhene was initially disgusted to be working with the Greenskin barbarians from the war stories.. Yet as if often the case, stories do not match reality. Unable to contain her curiosity, when the first Orcish emissaries and adventurers made their way to Lordaeron she couldn’t help but listen in on their conversations. They spoke of their families back home, the difficulties of life in Durotar, their resentment to the Alliance and most poignant of all, frequent mentions of the importance of honour and bravery. Honour. A word she’d not heard in a long time yet one deeply nostalgic, bringing back memories of glorious war stories and the person she’d wished to be years ago. Thinking about it, and how she’d ended up so unlike the paragon that was her father brought a sharp pang of shame. Perhaps these Greenskins weren’t nearly as uncivilized as she’d been lead to believe, and maybe they had more in common with eachother than either realized. Maybe… She could even learn a thing or two from them. Orcs & Forsaken – the enslaved and the betrayed. At the very least, they had a common enemy. The Line Rhene, however, could not bring herself to fully let go of her pride just yet. She wanted to be better, yes, yet idealism would have to wait. She had obligations in Lordaeron now that she was making proper use of her combat skills - those at least hadn’t been a waste. Scarlets. Worgen. The Scourge. The traitorous Alliance. The Forsaken were surrounded by enemies and Rhene had to be ready for when the effort to finish off the citizens of Lordaeron came. She couldn't just up and leave! ...Or that is what she told herself to rationalize her lack of courage and stubborn refusal to fully confront her numerous faults. Physical Appearance Before her death she was on the taller side for a woman and possessing of a slender, athletic build maintained by countless hours of duelling, hunting and troublemaking. Physically, she took more after her mother with sharp and regal features coupled with long, straight hair somewhere between red and auburn. Come death, she still holds onto some level of vanity and keeps her appearance presentable and her corpse in the best condition she can manage, even if it means spending far too much coin on frequent trips to a Shadowmender. The List Category:Forsaken